


Bad Dog

by Always_Dreaming



Category: MotoGP RPF, Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Fuckbuddies, Gay Sex, Lorannone, M/M, Mild S&M, Rossi keeps interrupting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7246090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Always_Dreaming/pseuds/Always_Dreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lorenzo’s way of stopping Iannone crashing into him doesn’t always work.</p>
<p>Again, not a sweet or cute story...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Dog

_Sometime after the Barcelona 2016 race…_

Jorge slapped Iannone’s arse as he fucked him on the bed in his motorhome. “You’re a—bad, bad boy, Maniac!”

“I am very—very—bad!”

“You made me crash—and ruined my race.” On the word _race_ Jorge gripped his hips, gave an extra hard thrust, which made him whine and shudder. “You sound like a dog. Bad dog. Bad!”

Iannone whined on purpose, which turned into a howl then a bark. 

“Shh! Not so loud.”

“Well, we are doing it doggy style.”

They burst into giggles and rested for a moment but Jorge couldn’t keep still and thrust into him, unable to resist making him howl again, which he did, mixed with a groan.

“Don’t make me crash again, or I won’t—do—this!” He fucked him faster, enjoying his barking, howling, groaning, giggling noises. He was so tight, he couldn’t hold on—and came inside him, not for the first time recently. He wriggled his hand round to Iannone’s cock, but before he could do anything, it gushed into his hand and everywhere, making its owner howl again and Jorge laugh.

They fell onto the bed in a sweaty, sticky mess, panting and grinning.

“Lunatico,” said Iannone, running his finger down Jorge’s arm.

“Maniac.”

Someone knocked on the door. “Hey Andrea, want to go for a drink?” It was Rossi’s voice.

“How does he know?” complained Jorge. “He is always interrupting us.”

“Can we invite him to join us just one time? Please?”

“No! I don’t want to.” He frowned.

“You are cute when you sulk.”

“I’m not cute! I’m a big, hard man.”

“I know. I felt it …” Iannone winked.

***

Rossi won the next race, with Lorenzo second and Iannone third so they all went to the press conference together.

“Erm—I am very ‘appy that I won, and very ‘appy that I beat-a my team mate,” Rossi began.

Jorge felt an urge to laugh but glancing at Iannone did not help as he looked like he was suppressing a laugh too.

“And when You’re Gay overtook me…” continued Rossi.

It was no good, Jorge couldn’t smother a giggle and it got worse until he was laughing out loud. He didn’t dare look at his Maniac friend on the left.

“What is matter with you? What did I say that was funny?” Rossi asked him.

“N—nothing, I—”

Rossi turned to Iannone to find him in the same condition. He turned back to Jorge. “You are Lunatico today, what is wrong with you?”

Jorge heard Iannone choke laughing when Rossi called him _Lunatico_ and it made his own laughter even more painful.

Members of the media asked Jorge questions and he managed to answer between giggles but when they tried to ask Iannone they gave up because he couldn’t speak.

“Well. I am very sorry about these two, they must have taken a laughing pill,” said Rossi to the journalists. “They need to be trained to behave, like dogs.”

Jorge thought he might die from lack of oxygen at this, and Iannone’s face was so red he looked like he was about to explode.

Everyone else exchanged confused glances, and didn’t know what to say next.

***

“You are stupid, you nearly gave us away.” Jorge pushed his friend’s shoulder as they walked back from the press conference.

“What about you? You were just as bad.”

“All the giggling. It made us look like we had a secret.”

“We _have_ got a secret, idiota.”

Jorge gripped his wrist and led him towards the motorhomes.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Home to fuck your brains out of course, dog boy.”

Iannone grinned. “Or, I could fuck your brains out for a change.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Jorge wasn’t sure about that.

***

With the Maniac’s tongue in his mouth and his cock inside him, Jorge felt full. _I can do this. I can. He would stop if I wanted._ It was getting better though as they got into a rhythm—he could get used to this, easily. They had to stop kissing though, or they would suffocate, so he turned his head away to suck in air.

“Just breathe, Lunatico. It’s okay.” He was pushing Jorge back against the bed and the weird feeling of having a cock inside him changed to wanting more of it and he arched towards Iannone, their hot muscles rubbing against each other.

“You are a sexy animal, I will eat you,” he growled, his fiery breath making the hairs on the back of Jorge’s neck stand up. The Majorcan gasped in reply, held on tightly to him and they moved faster and faster, the friction beautiful and the full sensation just right, oh couldn’t they just stay like this forever? But it was over too quickly and Jorge frowned even as they shuddered to a halt, panting and hot and sweaty, covered in slippery cum. They separated and the Maniac settled down next to him on the bed, mumbling contentedly while Jorge stared up at the ceiling, his hands behind his head. 

He ached all over but due to suffering so many racing injuries, the pain didn’t bother him. He’d never done it that way before but kissing at the same time as fucking had somehow made him feel safe and protected. That was such an unusual feeling for him, he was used to being alone and defending himself. Usually he and his Italian friend just screwed each other then went their separate ways, there wasn’t normally any kissing. But Iannone didn’t do things half measures, it seemed. 

He looked across to see him lying fast asleep with his mouth open, snoring, and smiled, shaking his head. _Life is about having different experiences and that was certainly one. Would I do that again? For sure!_ Jorge rolled over happily and sleep caught up with him.

***

Again in a race, Jorge ended up in the gravel and again it was number 29 who had caused the crash. This time he marched straight up to the culprit and yelled, “what the fuck are you doing, you fucking idiot?”

The marshals stepped back and looked uncertainly from one rider to the other.

“Sorry,” mumbled Iannone.

“Well sorry isn’t fucking good enough! You’re useless! You’re determined to fuck up my championship and—” He ran out of words so just thumped the taller man in the chest. The marshals tried to restrain him but he shook them off. “Not even an apology? It was all your fault.”

“I just said sorry! Are you deaf?” He glared at Jorge, who gulped, losing his breath at a sudden idea of what he could do to the Maniac later.

“You keep saying sorry but you keep crashing into me!” he blustered to cover his real feelings. “You need to learn to ride properly!”

Iannone blushed and gave him an evil look. They walked on in silence, marshals hovering round them, anticipating a fight. When they reached the edge of the track where they had to separate to go to their teams, they looked at each other, Jorge impatient, Iannone rebellious. He stepped towards the Majorcan, who flinched in case of attack.

“But I’m still coming round to your place tonight, aren’t I?” he whispered in Jorge’s ear.

“Oh yes, yes!” The shock of the crash and something else made his legs go wobbly. 

***

“So, you won’t crash into me ever again?” Jorge rubbed his naked body up against the Maniac, who was also naked lying on his back, with his hands stretched above him tied to the bed frame. The only things Jorge had found to tie him with were bootlaces, but it had been an urgent situation with no time to look for anything else.

“No, no! Never!” gasped Iannone. 

“Are you sure?” Jorge pressed himself down on him, their cocks touching and making his friend push up against him desperately.

“Fuck me, please, please! I’ll make the dog noise if you want!”

“I might.” He brushed his fingers up against the Maniac’s hole, pushing one in a little then taking it out. “You are insane.”

“And you’re a bastard!” He writhed, bringing his legs up and down. “I hate you!”

“No, you don’t.” _Crashing into me twice is too many times. You deserve this._ He wriggled two fingers inside him, til he whimpered as if in pain. This sound scared Jorge a little and he relented, pushing them in and nearly out again and again, so the noise changed to a ragged hum of pleasure. Jorge couldn’t wait any longer now though and pushed his cock slowly inside instead. The animal growls he was making now urged the Majorcan to just fuck him as hard as he could, but not yet. He was determined that his will was stronger.

“So, no more crashing?” he hissed.

Iannone shook his head excitedly.

“Because…if you crash into me one more time, I’ll never do this again, understand?” Jorge gave into himself and thrust into the tightness, pounding into him til they were both gasping and growling with pleasure.

“I—understand—” The Maniac panted and lifted his legs as far as he could. “Don’t stop!”

Jorge continued, then someone banged on the door and they heard the inevitable voice of Valentino. “Jorge? Want to come for a drink with me, Dani and Marc?”

“No—I fucking—don’t,” the Majorcan gasped under his breath so there was no way his team mate would hear him. “Fuck off, Vale.” He looked up to see Iannone grinning and hesitated. “Tell me you don’t want him to join us?”

He didn’t get an answer, so began to move again, but more slowly and agonisingly. “Tell me that you want me and not him.”

Still no answer but the Maniac was gazing at him with his tongue hanging out.

“Say it. Say you want me and not him or I’ll stop and never do this again.” He thrust inside him so hard that he yelled out.

“What was that?” said Valentino outside. “Is Jorge alright?”

“Dunno,” said Dani’s voice. “Should we break in and see?”

“Oh, fuck off, fuck off,” whispered Iannone.

“So you don’t want him?” whispered Jorge.

“No—I don’t—I want them to go away and leave us alone.”

They waited for what seemed like eternity, before Dani and Valentino agreed they’d been hearing things and their footsteps receded.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Jorge felt like he was going to die if he didn’t move soon.

“I did! I want you! I don’t want anyone else!” The Italian’s voice was so loud it echoed round the room. “Please fuck me, please!”

Jorge smiled and pushed into him, moving faster and faster til the sweat was running off him and the Maniac was stuck to him with it, and crying out with pleasure and their groans became shouts and laughs and gasps until they both came so hard, Jorge felt like his head was spinning and Iannone had bent the bedframe he was tied to.

“So,” said Jorge after a little while, his chest still heaving. “You know what’ll happen. If you crash into me again, I’ll never do that ever again.”

Iannone nodded vigorously. “I promise. I’ll be a good dog.” They giggled. “Now will you untie me? I don’t want people asking me what these red marks are.”

**Author's Note:**

> I read that 'Lunatico' was Lorenzo’s nickname when he raced in the lower bike formulas.
> 
> I just love the idea of Lorenzo tying Iannone to the bed and torturing him. I know…I need therapy…


End file.
